


Finding Our Way

by CelesteFitzgerald



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29394882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelesteFitzgerald/pseuds/CelesteFitzgerald
Summary: While avoiding class, thirteen-year-old George runs into a boy named Ritchie who's looking for the courage to confess to his Valentine. George helps him, they part ways, and that's the end of that.But each year on Valentine's Day, their paths cross again.
Relationships: George Harrison/Ringo Starr
Comments: 12
Kudos: 28
Collections: Peace & Love Mini Fest





	Finding Our Way

**Author's Note:**

> For the Peace and Love Mini Fest!!

George took his time leaving the bathroom. The sooner he left, the sooner he’d have to return to class and listen to his teacher drone on and on about…maths? No, English. He was definitely supposed to be in English class. Probably.

He checked his appearance in the mirror and made sure his shirt was entirely tucked into his trousers. Most days, he habitually untucked it as soon as he was out of his mum’s sight, but now he was finding every possible excuse to stall. Besides, it couldn’t hurt to look nice on Valentine’s Day—according to his mum, at least.

Once he ran out of excuses, he regretfully headed back to the hallway. At least there were no teachers around, so he could walk as slowly as he wanted.

But when he turned the corner, he was no longer alone. Another student, around fifteen or sixteen, was pacing back and forth with something tucked under his arm. He bit his nails as he walked, completely oblivious to George’s presence. George was about to turn around and take the long route back to class when the item slipped from his grip to the floor.

George paused and watched as the boy continued walking, unaware that he had dropped it. Sighing, George shuffled down the hall and picked up the red envelope. “Excuse me?”

The boy jolted and spun around with a hand to his chest. “Sorry,” he blurted even though George had no clue what he would be apologizing for.

“You dropped your Valentine,” George said, holding it out to him.

“Oh.” His cheeks flushed pink as he grabbed it from George, and George suddenly noticed the bright blue of his wide eyes. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” George stuffed his hands in his pockets and was about to continue on his way, but the way the boy stared at his card and picked at the corners made him stop. “You alright?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I dunno. It’s dumb.”

“You’re gonna get in trouble if they catch ya out here.”

“I know,” he said, shifting his weight from side to side. “But I’m scared.”

George frowned, then glanced down. He pointed to the card. “That an important Valentine?”

The boy bit his lip. “Yeah. Kinda.” He turned the card over in his hands. “I think I’m makin’ a mistake.”

“You never know till you try. And I bet you’ll regret it if you don’t,” George said, echoing the “good advice” he learned from his parents and the telly, hoping it was true.

“…Yeah. You’re probably right.”

Looked like the advice was a success. “Don’t worry so much,” George said with a smile as he continued toward his classroom. “I bet she’ll love it.” This was perfect. George had not only escaped a few more minutes of class, but he’d helped someone in the process—

“He.”

George turned around. “Huh?”

The poor kid curled in on himself, facing half away from George. He was slightly taller than George, but in that moment he looked so tiny. “M-my Valentine’s for a boy.”

“Oh.” George had never seen a boy give another boy a Valentine at his school. Was that why he was so scared? “Then I bet _he’ll_ love it.”

To George’s horror, the boy burst into tears. Did he say the wrong thing? “Um,” George said, “d’you wanna go into the loo?” If the teachers overheard the crying and caught them, they would have their heads for sure. The boy didn’t protest, so George dragged him back to the bathroom and shoved some paper towels into his hands.

As he blew his nose, George looked on helplessly. “What’re you cryin’ for?”

“ ‘m sorry,” he mumbled through the glob of paper towels. “I’ve just never told anyone that before. Don’t know why I told you.”

The envelope had fluttered to the floor, so George picked it up and made sure no water had gotten on it. He finally noticed “Joe” written on the front. “What’s your name?”

The boy looked up. “Ritchie.”

“I’m George. Tell me about Joe.”

Ritchie tensed. “You don’t really wanna hear about that, do you?”

“I do. Is he cute?”

The hint of a smile flickered across Ritchie’s face. “He’s very cute.” Ritchie gradually began to open up, and he even showed George some selfies of him and Joe in some fancy shades. Joe _was_ pretty cute—something that George never expected to think about another boy, but the proof was right there.

“Do you think he’ll hate me?”

“Why would he hate you?”

Ritchie put his phone away. “ ‘cause I’m…weird.”

George cocked his head. “You’re not weird.” He didn’t even know where Ritchie would get an idea like that. He thought Ritchie was pretty cool, ditching class for a Valentine and all.

“You promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

Ritchie giggled when George stuck out his pinky, but his extended his own pinky anyway. “Can I, um, get your number?” Ritchie said. “In case he gets mad? I don’t have anyone else to talk to.”

“Sure!” George proudly took out the phone that his parents had bought him a few weeks ago. He wasn’t supposed to get one until he was fourteen, the same age his brother Peter got one, but after the “getting on the wrong bus and getting lost for an hour” incident, his parents had caved a few months early.

They exchanged numbers, George wished him luck, and they finally made their way to class.

Dear god, George’s teacher was _mad_.

* * *

When George was on the bus home, he got a text from Ritchie.

_“He hatrs me”_

And a second.

_“Hes tellin ppl”_

George changed his mind. Joe wasn’t cute at all.

He spent the whole night on the phone with Ritchie. At first, he could barely understand a word through all of Ritchie’s tears, but knowing that George was there seemed to make him feel better. George promised—again—that he didn’t think there was anything wrong with him for being gay. He didn’t even understand what _could_ be wrong with it. Joe was stupid for getting upset, and George made sure Ritchie knew it.

“You’re gonna find a way cuter boy,” George said, more quietly now since he was supposed to be sleeping.

“I hope so,” Ritchie said with a sniffle. “Thanks for talkin’ ta me. Can I call you again? If it gets worse?”

“Worse?”

“If…if me mum and dad find out.”

“They’d be mad?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re scared a lot.”

“Well, the world’s scary a lot.”

George laughed. Not because it was funny, but because he didn’t know what else to say. Thankfully, Ritchie laughed too.

“I guess I’ll see you around, George?”

“Yeah.” George hoped he would.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, they didn’t talk much. There were a couple other mean students who gave Ritchie a hard time, but most people were nice. And his parents didn’t find out. Satisfied with knowing that Ritchie was happy, George reached out less. Ritchie did the same. He had all but slipped from George’s mind.

Until next year on February thirteenth.

 _“Do u remember me?_ ” the text read, from someone identified in his contacts list only as Ritchie.

_“My phone does”_

A reply came through immediately. _“Valentines day.”_

The memories rushed back. _“Do I gotta beat up joe for you”_

 _“Haha.”_ Then Ritchie called him.

“…Hello?” George said, confused.

“Woah, damn.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Sorry, sorry,” Ritchie sputtered. “Your voice’s a lot lower than I remember.”

George wished Ritchie could see his scowl through the phone. “What’re you even callin’ for?”

“Oh—right. Well, it’s Valentine’s again. And you were real nice about helpin’ me out last year.”

“Okay…”

“There’s another guy. Tom. I wanna ask him out.”

George snorted. “Y’know, you don’t hafta wait till Valentine’s Day to ask people out.”

“I _know_ , but it’s so much more romantic.”

“Sure, I guess.” George didn’t really get the hype. Girls were boring. Boys were better, but still not great. Most of them were dumbarses. He’d rather buy candy for himself for Valentine’s Day. He reached into the bag next to him on his bed and popped another M&M in his mouth.

“So,” Ritchie continued, “I think Tom might actually like me. I think he’s been flirting. But maybe I’ve got it wrong. Can you help?”

Sighing, George stretched out on his bed. “Sure. What’s Tom like?”

As Ritchie talked and talked, George felt like he was learning more about Ritchie than Tom. Number one on his list of facts was how god damn _sappy_ Ritchie was. He went on for minutes about the way they had sunbathed together on the beach close enough for their hands to touch—even though they never did touch. And how Tom suggested they do a “trust exercise” that was really just a lot of gazing into each other’s eyes. If Ritchie talked about the fireworks that went off every time they made eye contact one more time, George might barf. Or maybe he’d just eaten too much candy.

“So? Does he like me back?”

“Um.” How was George supposed to know this? “Probably?”

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

Ritchie sighed. “Wow, thanks for the help,” he said sarcastically.

“If he likes starin’ into your eyes, I don’t think he’s gonna hate you. And he knows you’re gay, right?”

“Yeahhhh,” Ritchie said. “Okay. Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll ask him out.”

“Good luck. I’ll punch him if he’s mean.”

Ritchie laughed.

“I _mean_ it.”

“Not sure how much damage you could do, but thanks, Georgie.”

Before George could ask where the hell _Georgie_ came from, Ritchie hung up. He hoped it would go smoother than the previous year.

George spent the next day glued to his phone. When he finally got a message from Ritchie, he almost dropped his phone in his rush to unlock it. The screen lit up with a photo of Ritchie kissing Tom’s cheek. George was so relieved that he screamed.

* * *

They kept in touch a bit better than the year before. Ritchie sent George the occasional selfie of him and Tom, and George sent him enthusiastic thumbs-up in response. George didn’t have anyone to take pictures with to send to Ritchie, and surprisingly, it was beginning to bother him.

George was coming to the conclusion that he was probably-maybe-gay too. There wasn’t anyone in particular he had fallen for, but when his classmate Carlos started chatting him up at a party and invited him off to the bathroom, George learned that snogging boys was _very_ nice. He and Carlos met up a few more times, and George went out with a couple other boys, but nothing lasted.

It was September before George noticed that Ritchie’s last couple selfie was two months ago. _“What happened to Tom? He get sick of you or smth?”_ George texted.

He felt like shit when Ritchie responded, _“Yes.”_

George typed the fastest, most guilt-ridden apology ever, and Ritchie gave the saddest little “👌” George had ever seen. And then…nothing. Weeks went by. Months. George wondered if he should text him, or if he’d fucked up too badly already.

So, he kept quiet, sadly scrolled through Ritchie’s old selfies, and prayed that the magic of Valentine’s Day would bring him back again next year.

* * *

February fourteenth came and went. Nothing.

* * *

George didn’t know why he cared so much. He and Ritchie were never even _friends_ , really. George was just his relationship coach. His very, very bad relationship coach. But Ritchie was such a sweet guy, with really pretty eyes, and a prettier smile—

Ohhhhhhhhh, fuck.

Well. At least that explained why George cared so much. It was exciting, in a way. Fifteen years old and finally getting his first proper crush. Unfortunately, his crush was on someone who he barely knew, was three years older than him, and probably hated his guts. Lovely.

George planned to let the crush fizzle out. He tried to focus his attention on the boys at school. He thought it was working at first, but each time his phone buzzed, his heart leapt in the hopes that he’d see Ritchie’s name on the screen.

After a few months, George gave up on waiting around. His new plan was to deduce the best way to message Ritchie and gauge how much he hated him. The waiting was killing him, but holding out till their almost-tradition of February seemed like the safest option. When the first day of February finally rolled around, George broke down and sent a very pathetic _“Hey.”_

This was a terrible idea, wasn’t it?

He went to bed that night with no word from Ritchie and a sinking feeling in his gut.

The notification he woke up to almost gave him a heart attack. He shakily tapped Ritchie’s message.

 _“Hey!_ ✌️”

George’s eyes teared up in joy. _“Didn’t hear from you last year. Thought you were mad”_

_“Nah. Just didn’t have anyone to ask out”_

“Thank god,” George muttered to himself as he gripped his phone tight. _“Need help this year?”_

_“Nope! Took ur advice. Asked him out on a day besides Vday. Been together 3 months now”_

And just like that, George’s hopes came crashing back down. _“That’s great. What’s his name?”_

Ritchie sent text after text about how great his boyfriend was, and George tried to be happy for him. He tried so hard. And of _course_ John just _had_ to be the coolest man ever, with his sexy voice and badass guitar skills. George hated that he understood what Ritchie liked about him—and boy did Ritchie like him.

The conversation began to trail off and George prepared himself for the inevitable goodbye, but a miracle happened. He read Ritchie’s message three times to make sure he wasn’t imagining it.

_“Wanna meat 4 tea sumtime? Weve known each other for years but we still don’t rly know each other.”_

George’s answer was a resounding _“Yes!!!!”_

* * *

All of George’s instincts were right: Ritchie was _incredible_. Seeing selfies of him was one thing, but sitting across from the real Ritchie was something else entirely. The tiny hint of scruff on his chin and the confident way he carried himself were so different from the frightened little boy who had cried in the bathroom. Not to mention that he told the best jokes, had kindness practically dripping off of him, and was all-around fun to be with.

George hardly minded that he had a boyfriend already. Even being friends with Ritchie was fabulous. They visited each other’s houses all the time, hung out downtown every week, and even went on double dates a couple times—Ritchie with sexy guitar man, and George with a rotating cast of boys.

Then things grew tense between Ritchie and John. George stayed on the phone with him for hours into the night as Ritchie puzzled out whether it was worth it to try to make the relationship work. After a lot of rambling and a few tears, Ritchie resolved to break up with John. The next time George saw him, he wrapped his arms around Ritchie and held him close as he cried.

The next few weeks were rough for Ritchie, but George did everything to be the best friend he could be. He and Ritchie still met up often—more often than before. Before long, Ritchie was back to his usual bright self.

That’s when George began noticing things. The way Ritchie’s eyes lingered on his before suddenly looking away with a whispered giggle. The way their shoulders brushed together whenever they walked side by side. The way Ritchie seemed to be sitting much, much closer to him during each of their Netflix nights.

It was probably all in his head. George thought back to the conversation they’d had two years ago, when they were trying to find out if Tom had been flirting with Ritchie. George’s “advice” had been awful back then, and he felt just as helpless now. Maybe it wasn’t flirting. Maybe it was just the way Ritchie was.

George tried to push the thoughts from his head. It was almost Valentine’s Day again. Most likely, Ritchie would come to George for help with yet another man.

Sure enough, on February tenth, Ritchie spoke up. “So,” he said, setting down the game controller on George’s couch. “Valentine’s Day is coming up.”

“Say no more. Your matchmaker is at your service.”

Ritchie laughed and shoved George’s shoulder, and George ignored the way his fingers felt on his arm.

“Who is it this year?”

Looking down, Ritchie folded his hands in his lap. “Well…he’s someone really special to me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ritchie swallowed. “I like him. I _really_ like him. But…it’s complicated.”

“Why?”

“I really can’t mess this one up. If I lose him after all this time, I’m not sure what I’d do.”

A tiny flame of hope ignited in George’s chest. “W-why would you lose him?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want him to think I’m…”

“Weird?”

“Yeah.”

George sighed. “You’re still worried about that, huh?”

Ritchie shrugged. “Guess so.”

Regardless of what Ritchie was about to say, George needed him to know how wonderful he was. He placed a hand on Ritchie’s knee. “You’re _not_ weird. Not at all.”

Ritchie’s eyes locked on his. His face inched slightly closer, and he licked his lips. “Do you promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

Their heads drew closer and their lips finally met. George threw his arms around Ritchie and Ritchie’s hands tangled in his hair. George was smiling and shaking so hard that they kept missing each other’s lips, but Ritchie just giggled and tugged him closer.

When they tired of kissing, they relaxed into each other’s arms. George had waited years for this moment, but _god_ , it was worth the wait.

“Hey, Ritchie?” he said, brushing their noses together before leaning back to gaze at his gorgeous face, his lips still bright red from the kiss.

“Yeah?”

George grinned. “You better give me a very nice card for Valentine’s Day.”

Ritchie laughed. “Don’t worry, I will.”


End file.
